


Parley

by Peanutbutterer



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutbutterer/pseuds/Peanutbutterer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sorry, but there's just no way ninjas are better than pirates."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parley

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous? I am?”

“Yes, you. You, Kensi Blye, are ridiculous.”

She scoffs, pressing herself securely against the storage container. “If anyone here is ridiculous, it’s you.” Out of the corner of his eye, Deeks sees her shake her head in disgust. “Pirates.”

“Yes, pirates.” He pokes his head out only a moment before bringing it back in. "Pirates are clearly superior.”

“Maybe in _Waterworld_ ,” she answers, checking her magazine for the third time. “But when Kevin Costner is your protagonist, you’re already living in a seriously disturbed alternate reality.”

“He wasn’t so bad in _Robin Hood_ ,” Deeks defends, but his heart isn’t in it. She has a point about Costner. 

Kensi huffs in disagreement and taps her earpiece, patience wearing thin. "ETA?"

" _Fifteen minutes_ ," Callen says at the same time Sam says, " _Ten_."

“Roger that.” She toggles off her comm. 

“I’m sorry, but there’s just no way ninjas are better than pirates.”

“Uh, yeah there is a way,” she argues. “Every way.”

He just raises an eyebrow.

She frowns. It’s kind of adorable. “I’m still right.”

“Who get to wear cool hats? Pirates.”

She snorts. “Yeah, ‘cause in a fight to the death I’m worried about who looks more fashionable.”

"Says the woman who changed outfits four times."

"That was one time! _One_ time!"

And it has provided him endless fodder, which makes it even more enjoyable than when he was actually experiencing it, which, at the time, he would never have thought possible. "You know I'm never going to let you live it down."

"And I'm never going to let you into my apartment again before I'm ready to go. You can sit in the car with the window cracked and listen to NPR." 

“If you’re trying to insult me by comparing me to Monty, it’s not going to work. He’s a fine animal, a distinguished civil servant, and I’m honored to be thought of in the same light.”

Kensi tries to hide a grin by poking her head around the corner. Deeks does the same. From their vantage point they can just make out Calderón and Specialist Bateman talking over an opened briefcase on the dock, each flanked by one guard. Two more guys are hanging back by a pair of sedans some fifty-odd yards from the water.

"This exchange is going to be long over by the time the cavalry arrives,” she observes as they watch the briefcase close.

Deeks pulls his head back and tightens his grip on his weapon. "Royal flush?"

She shakes her head. "I'm still sore from the last time." 

He glances around the shipyard, looking for inspiration. There are numerous storage containers, some large pipes, a forklift, a crane. They could _maybe_ pull off an English Gentleman.

"Spiderman?"

“No way,” he answers immediately. "Not in these boots." 

Kensi rolls her eyes. "You are such a girl."

"One of us has to be."

She raises her eyebrow in challenge. "Fine. Damsel in Distress. _You_ get to be the damsel this time."

"Perfect," he answers, his tone making it clear it's anything but. "I love this one."

"If only you had some nice gold hoop earrings," she says, lips curving into a grin.

With an exaggerated sigh, Deeks hands her his M4 and checks his Beretta before returning it to the waistband of his jeans. "Was that supposed to be a pirate joke?"

She sticks out her tongue in response, slipping the strap of his weapon over her shoulder before activating her earpiece to let Callen and Sam know they’re about to engage. 

When she disconnects, Deeks steps forward, looking back quickly to make sure she's really making him do this - which, of course, she is.

"Any time now, poppet," she prompts, still grinning.

His nose scrunches in distaste. "You're the worst."

Kensi laughs.

He shakes his head at her before squaring his shoulders, throwing up a silent prayer, and running out from behind the container at full tilt. 

"Help! Please help!" He slows once he’s almost to the cars, heading directly toward the pair of bodyguards beside the black sedan. "Oh, thank god," he says over labored breaths, arms gesticulating in what he hopes passes for helplessness. "Can one of you help me?"

The bigger of the two men grunts in disapproval and takes a step toward Deeks, effectively boxing him in between the man and his partner. After careful evaluation, Deeks decides to take that as a _no_. With a quick internal curse at Kensi, Deeks steps forward and drives the heel of his hand into Bigger’s nose with as much force as he can. As the man’s hands reflexively fly up to his face, Kensi’s weapon fires and Big drops like a rock.

Still recovering from the unexpected blow, Bigger raises his weapon as Deeks takes a step to the side and twists his torso, clearing the muzzle before reaching for the weapon and flicking it back to disarm him. Deeks raises his newly acquired sidearm as the man advances, eyes watering, but before Bigger can make a play to retrieve it, Deeks lifts it high and swings it hard, pistol-whipping him across the face and sending him to the ground.

“Can we retire that one now?” Deeks asks, trying to shake the pain out of his hand as Kensi runs up beside him.

“But it worked so well," she defends, yanking him behind the sedan as the four remaining men approach, bodyguards out front, weapons raised, irate yells indecipherable from their current distance.

She hands him back his M4 as bullets pelt the far side of the vehicle. Readying her own weapon, she pops up, barely clearing the hood before releasing a spray of bullets and dropping back down beside her partner.

Deeks pokes his head around the front of the car, snapping it back when the shooting resumes. “Still four left.”

“I’m aware of that, thank you.”

“Maybe if your bullets weren’t so small. If they were, oh I don’t know - cannonballs, or something.”

“Right,” she deadpans. “That’d definitely give us the upper hand.”

She pops up again, this time managing to kill one of the bodyguards when he leans out from the storage container they’ve taken refuge behind.

When she drops back down Deeks nods, indicating that she should turn around.

She does, twisting to follow his line of sight. She returns her gaze to his and nods. _One_ , she mouths, _two_ , _three_.

On three he stands, firing his M4 as Kensi runs for a nearby shipping crate. He ducks back down once she’s safely tucked away, heavy breathing barely audible as bullets riddle the sedan.

They lock eyes, silently conveying the plan before Kensi takes her turn as bait. Crouching over, Deeks quickly crosses to his partner as she draws a hail of weapons fire.

Clip empty, Kensi drops her M4 to the ground and pulls out her SIG. “Ninjas have throwing stars.”

“Do you know how easy it is to cut yourself on one of those?” He pokes his head out and fires, downing the second guard. “They’re practically all blade.” 

“Oh, and you don’t think you’d accidentally blow off a toe or two when you’re drunk on all that rum?”

He gasps, offended. “Not all pirates are drunkards, Kensi! Long John Silver’s sobriety was legendary.”

She looks at him briefly, face scrunched up in confusion. “The fish stick guy?”

“No! Well, yes, but - forget it.” 

Calderón keeps them pinned as Bateman, briefcase in hand, makes a break for the nearby building.

Kensi manages to take Calderón down with a well-placed bullet, but not before Bateman slips into a warehouse fronting the pier. 

“We could wait for backup?” Deeks suggests hopefully.

She ignores him, SIG held ready as she moves toward the building.

“Right. Forget I asked.” He sighs, shedding his M4 in favor of his Beretta before following close behind his partner as she makes her way through the entrance.

Once inside, they sweep the large room, finding a door ajar on the easternmost wall. They press themselves against the wall beside the open door, waiting only a moment before he taps her thigh and she leads them through.

“Blackbeard, Barbarossa, Black Bart,” he whispers as they proceed down the hallway. “Name one famous ninja.”

“That’s the point,” she argues just as quietly. “Ninjas don’t make names for themselves. They’re deadly weapons not Disney villains.”

He shakes his head, following her up the stairs at the end of the hall. He tries to step lightly, dampening the echo of the hollow metal beneath his feet. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

“We shouldn’t be. It’s not even a contest. Pirates are sloppy, careless plunderers who could only blend in at Mardi Gras. Ninjas are highly trained, stealthy assassins -”

“Who don’t know how to have a good time, never get to captain a ship or keelhaul any scurvy dogs, and probably keep their treasure in banks!” 

“It’s like we’re having completely separate arguments.”

When they reach the top of the stairs, Kensi flicks her eyes to the right. He nods in understanding, swinging his Beretta and eyes that direction. They proceed down the hall, checking each room as they pass, Kensi on the left and Deeks on the right. They've almost reached the end when he tugs the back of her shirt, halting her forward motion.

In the ensuing silence they hear a voice, clearly agitated. “- don’t fucking know that do I? I don’t give a shit, just get here yesterday.”

“Such language,” Kensi whispers. “Obviously a pirate.”

Deeks scoffs. “A pirate would have run for the open sea, not attempted to escape by trapping himself in a building. The guy is clearly a ninja.”

Kensi rolls her eyes. “Okay, Captain Scruffybeard, do you have a plan?”

“Pirates don’t plan. We pillage.” He nods at her. “Don’t you have a ninja playbook you could consult...” he tapers off, frowning. “I can’t even come up with a cool ninja name for you because there are no cool ninja nicknames! Yet another reason they are inferior. Scallywag! Matey!”

“Some of us would see that as a plus.”

He huffs. “You love nicknames.”

“Like ninjas love grog.”

“We going in?”

“I thought maybe we could hang out here a little longer and discuss Superman versus Batman.”

“Batman,” they say in unison.

“Awesome.” She tightens her grip on her SIG. “In we go then.”

At her signal, he places a swift kick to the door just below the handle. As it swings open she steps in the room, weapon raised.

“Federal agents!” she shouts as Deeks comes in behind her. “Hands in the air.”

When Bateman’s hand raises, his sidearm is in it and it's aimed directly at them. Kensi and Deeks both fire and he falls lifeless to the ground, briefcase at his feet.

They approach him, weapons raised until his gun is safely kicked away. Deeks retrieves the briefcase and Kensi checks for a pulse.

She stands, returns her SIG to the waistband of her jeans and shakes her head. 

They make their way outside the warehouse just as the Challenger pulls up to the entrance. Sam and Callen step out, eyes scanning the scene.

“Huh,” Sam says, shutting his car door behind him, the urgency he’d had a moment ago quickly dissolving. “Looks like we missed the party, G.”

“I told you to take the 405.”

“And I told you to take your own car.”

“That wouldn’t be very environmentally friendly of me, now would it?” Callen answers, nodding to the briefcase in Deeks’ hand. “That it?”

Deeks nods. “Yup.”

“Bad guys?”

“Headed for Davy Jones’ locker,” Kensi answers.

Callen and Sam both raise their eyebrows and Deeks pulls a face. “Really?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, though she’s clearly not, “were we done with the pirate stuff?”

“Yes, we were done.”

“Pirate stuff?” Sam stage-whispers to Callen questioningly. His partner just shakes his head and continues to observe the pair before him.

Deeks ignores them. 

“Oh yeah?” Kensi asks. “And what was the conclusion?”

Deeks wiggles his eyebrows. “Police officers.”

Kensi laughs, incredulous. “Police officers? _Police officers?_ ”

“What, you were going to say federal agents?”

“Well, they’re clearly superior to police officers.”

“Why do you keep saying it like it’s a dirty word? _Police officers_. We’re the city’s first bastion of defense!”

“You sit around all day eating doughnuts!”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

Her jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t think I don’t know about your rewards card at Krispy Kreme.”

She spares the two senior agents a glance, looking torn between embarrassed and defensive. “I’m entitled to a treat after a long day of saving the world.”

Deeks grins. “I thought that’s what all the ice cream was for.”

She reaches into her pocket and fishes out her keys. “You might want to ask Sam for a ride, Deeks, because you’re not getting in my car.”

“Come on, Kens, don’t be like that,” he calls to her departing form. “Kens?”

He looks to Sam and Callen for help, but they just shrug and get back into the Challenger. Callen’s already on his cell, presumably calling for clean-up, and Sam’s door slams.

“Kensi?” he calls again, turning to jog after her. “Parley! I invoke the right of parley!”

 

* * *

  


Kensi has one hand on the door, one on her hip, and both eyebrows raised to her hairline. 

It’s a struggle to keep a straight face, but he manages. Just barely. “It’s the only way to settle this.”

Her expression morphs into a scowl a moment before she concedes. “Fine, come in.”

Deeks allows himself to grin and steps into her apartment.

“But only because you have pizza.”

He laughs, setting the box on her coffee table and dropping the DVDs beside it. “Why do you think I brought it?” 

“If you knew me so well, you’d have brought dessert,” she calls as she walks to the other room.

“If you don’t still have at least _some_ ice cream left from those two cartons I brought over on Tuesday, I’m staging an intervention.”

She returns from the kitchen with napkins and a pair of beers. She hands him a bottle and perches on the couch, flipping the pizza box open and selecting a piece.

“Think we’ll find Bateman’s accomplices?” he asks, once he’s snagged a slice of his own.

She shakes her head. “Probably not. You think you’ll ever convince me that _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ is a fair representation of ninjas?”

“Hey, I am doing you a favor here. You’re going to get bonus points for comedy that no other ninja movie would get. Plus,” he says around a mouthful of pizza, “I figured it would appeal to you as an art curator. Next time someone asks you the difference between Raphael and Donatello you can just explain to them that Donatello was the one wearing purple.”

“You think you’re so funny.”

He grins. “Frankly, that’s probably the most knowledgeable thing you could say on the matter.”

She throws a slice of pepperoni at him. “Just start the movie.”

“Yes, ma’am. Pirates or ninjas?”

“You mean big green things that live in sewers or Johnny Depp?”

He grabs _Pirates of the Caribbean_ and puts it in the DVD player. “I knew you’d see things my way.”

"I'm not conceding!"

He drops onto the couch beside her and drapes his arm across the back. "You would rather watch the pirate movie. There's only one logical conclusion to draw from that, Kens."

"That you're a cheater?"

"Hey," he shrugs, "there were no rules."

"Well then," she says, pushing herself up off the couch, "I guess it's okay for me to do this."

Deeks watches as she unbuttons her shirt, her fingers slowly dancing over each button, teeth gently digging into her bottom lip.

"I have no problem with this," he says, voice suddenly much more husky than he intended.

She leans forward, lace-covered chest so tantalizingly close that he can't help but reach for it.

She steps back before he can touch her. "Sorry." Her frown is not at all genuine. "Ninja fans only."

He hooks his finger in the waistband of her jeans and tugs her into his lap. "Cowabunga."

She laughs as her mouth meets his. "That's what I thought."


End file.
